


Sniper's Patience

by Imoshen



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Begging, Bottom Joe, M/M, PWP, Top Nicky, fluff at the end because I'm me, kinkmeme fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:01:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26682598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imoshen/pseuds/Imoshen
Summary: Nicky has a sniper's patience. He uses it in bed, too.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 73
Kudos: 487





	Sniper's Patience

**Author's Note:**

> fill for [this kinkmeme prompt](https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/3653.html?thread=1091397#cmt1091397):  
> "Nicky is a sniper, which means he is patient, can stay focused for a long time, can lay unmoving for hours. Now imagine that with Joe. Specifically balls deep in Joe and waits, while Joe begs and begs. Nicky likes to tease it out. A few deep thrusts here and there. He changes positions. He knows exactly how to bring Joe teetering to the edge. Just a little longer, he tells Joe. Hold on a little longer."

One of the first things Yusuf found himself admiring about Nicolò di Genova was how _patient_ the man was if the situation called for it.

They had left the battleground of Jerusalem with very little – the clothing on their back, weapons taken from the dead with a murmured prayer. There had been no trust between them, then, just the mutual agreement that they needed to leave before anyone who had seen them die saw them alive. Neither man wanted to find out what those who held power now would make of them.

Yusuf had known how to find water in the parched land and he also knew how to hunt, but he was far more skilled at it with a hawk to help him. Nicolò hunted with a bow and the arrows he had scavenged from the battlefield and watching him use them was the first way Yusuf discovered just how patient his travel companion could be. Nicolò could spent hours hidden in the underbrush, or crouched in the meagre shade of boulders, an arrow notched. He rarely missed his target.

Yusuf found he started to respect the man for that skill and promptly was grumpy for a whole day.

Nicolò raised an eyebrow at him and patiently waited him out, because of course he did.

Joe tries to squirm, but the rope around his wrists is tied too well and gives him no slack to work with. He’s not really at the top of his game, too – he’s so hot, his skin is tingling with it as if he had been drugged. His senses are hyperaware for Nicky’s slow breath in his ear, against the sweat-damp skin of his neck. His heart is racing in his chest, and he can’t calm himself, can’t catch his breath.

There’s a low chuckle by his ear, and Joe’s nerves light up like the fucking Times Square Christmas Tree as the fingers stuffed into his hole give him a single thrust, aiming unerringly for his prostate.

Nicky’s aim has always been impeccable. Joe might shout, or he might just have choked on his breath, he’s not entirely sure. Nicky’s fingers still again, pushed in as deep as they can go, and Joe whimpers and clenches around them, trying to use his body to beg Nicky to _move_.

“So impatient,” his beloved murmurs, and Joe isn't so far gone (yet) that he doesn’t hear the amusement in his voice. He sucks in a few breaths and finds a few brain cells that haven’t yet melted entirely.

“Nico, it’s been _hours_!”

“It hasn’t,” Nicky disagrees, and one of his fingers inside Joe twitches just a little. Joe jerks and moans. “It’s been an hour and thirty-five minutes since you took my index finger so greedily, amore mio.”

Joe groans in desperation. An hour and a half on Nicky’s fingers means he’s been tied to the bed for at least the last two and a half hours, because his husband is a horrible bastard who enjoys being a damned _tease_. Joe tries clenching around Nicky’s fingers again, which earns him a pleased hum but nothing else.

_Fuck._

Joe wants, he wants with his entire being, but he’s not yet so far gone that he’ll give up and beg. If he starts too soon, Nicky will just tut at him and tell him he has to “mean it, Joe, really. You’re nowhere near as gone as I know you can be.”

Nicky had proceeded to work him up to taking four fingers like it was nothing over the course of an hour, and spent another hour playing with his hole before he finally fucked him that time, and the memory alone has Joe’s poor cock jerk and spit out a little pre-come. He moans and tugs on his ropes again.

“Beautiful,” Nicky tells him. His free hand has been resting on Joe’s thigh, and now he’s stroking up and down soothingly. “So good for me, just a little more.”

“Kiss me,” Joe begs, licks his lips. “Please, Nicky!”

The shift of Nicky’s fingers in his hole has him moan and his body tremble again, need spiking sharply. It’s worth it for the kiss though. Nicky’s lips are warm and soft and just a little wet, and his kiss is sweet and familiar. Joe happily drowns in it.

Sliding into Joe when he’s this open, this slick, is more than enough to wring a groan from Nicky’s throat. He wants to push in fast, bury himself to the hilt and fuck Joe until he’s forgotten any words except Nicky’s name, but that wasn’t the plan. Nicky grits his teeth and goes slow, pinning Joe’s hips to the bed with both hands to keep him from bucking up. Joe moans and gasps and moans again, his lovely eyes blown wide and dark with arousal, fixed on Nicky as if he’s the center of the universe. (For Joe, he is. It’s mutual.) He’s a mess, his curls sticking to sweaty skin and his lips bitten so plump and red that not even their immortal healing can quite keep up with it, and Nicky has to pause, not even halfway in, and stare for a while.

Joe licks that plump lower lip again, his breath calming a little now that Nicky’s holding so still again, but his need is written all over his face. Nicky wishes he could take a picture. (He’s nowhere as skilled with charcoal as Joe is, but he has an eye for photography. Especially when the subject is Joe.)

“Please move,” his husband whispers between them, and his hole clenches around Nicky’s cock as if to pull him in deeper. “Please, need to be full of you.”

Nicky hums and shifts a little, settles himself more firmly and continues the slow push into Joe, his gaze flicking between Joe’s face and the place where he’s sinking into him, one inch at a time. Joe’s panting again by the time he’s fully seated, tugging on his ropes in a desperate attempt to reach for Nicky, _make_ him go as fast and hard as they both know Joe loves to be taken.

Nicky settles his weight on top of him, traps Joe’s leaking cock between their bellies, and kisses the man he loves. He licks into Joe’s mouth with the ease of long familiarity, tempts his tongue into playing with him, sucks on that plump lower lip and listens to the whine Joe makes in response.

He’ll happily admit that he loses track of time, kissing Joe. It happens again and again and being buried balls-deep inside him doesn’t do anything to change that. It’s only when Joe is whimpering into their kiss, his legs wrapped so tightly around Nicky’s hips it has to be a strain on his muscles that Nicky finally pulls away from his mouth and pushes himself up onto his elbows.

There are tears gathering at the edges of Joe’s eyes, and Nicky smiles down at him as he pulls his hips back, slowly, savoring every inch as Joe’s body clutches at him, desperate to keep him inside. He pauses with just the head still inside, watches Joe abuse his lower lip between his teeth… then snaps his hips forward hard, once.

Joe screams.

Nicky does it again, twice more, pulls out so slowly only to ram himself back inside. Joe’s cock twitches between their bodies, wet with pre-come, and Joe’s chanting his name in a breathless litany – and Nicky settles his weight on top of Joe once more, kisses his jaw, and stills his hips.

“You feel so good,” he tells him in a low whisper, between kisses to his jaw. “I could keep you like this for days and be happy.”

Joe whimpers.

Nicky’s fingers dig into Joe’s hips hard enough to bruise. Of course, those don’t last, are gone almost before he shifts his grip, but that doesn’t matter.

What matters is that Nicky’s grip on Joe’s hips prevents him from sinking down onto Nicky’s cock as fast as he would, if he was free to move. He isn’t, not with his arms tied behind his back and his balance shot all to hell. Nicky’s grip guides him down, slow slow slow, and Joe moans so prettily as his hole is filled again.

Nicky watches him, watches where he’s sinking into Joe and then he watches his reflection in the mirror across from them, watches Joe’s eyes flutter shut and his mouth fall open as he settles in his lap, Nicky’s cock inside as far as it will go. It’s a deeper penetration than before, gravity pulling Joe down onto him, and Joe moans and wriggles a little until he realizes how easily Nicky is pinning him down. “Fuck,” he breathes.

Nicky laughs and tugs Joe back to rest against his chest, Joe’s bound hands trapped between them. “Eventually,” he agrees. Joe whimpers but sinks back against him, rests his head on Nicky’s shoulder. “Killing me,” he protests weakly.

“Just a little death my love,” Nicky promises, and Joe laughs weakly and turns his head, mouths at Nicky’s skin in a way that just begs him for a kiss. The angle is awkward, but that doesn’t stop Nicky from giving his husband all the kisses he wants. His hands stroke up and down Joe’s chest, play with his nipples, tease at stroking his cock.

Joe moans for him, melts against him.

Nicky smiles and holds him. “So good for me, my love.”

He’s nearing the end of his endurance, his patience a thin string now, one that is wound far too tightly. It’s bound to snap eventually, but Nicky is still clinging to the dregs of his control.

Joe’s on his hands and knees now – or, well, he started out on his hands and knees. He’s since slumped forward, arms spread out over their bed, fingers grasping at the sheets. Nicky watches him breathe, counts the time by his own fast heartbeat now. For every deep thrust he gives his love, he earns a shout, or a sob. Joe doesn’t even try to move back against him anymore, stays exactly as Nicky put him. His hole is fluttering around Nicky’s cock, twitching and needy. His rim is puffy and looks used, despite Nicky having hardly moved for so long. It looks delicious, and Nicky almost wants to pull out and put his mouth there, but Joe might actually kill him if he does that now.

Joe hasn’t quite forgotten words yet, but he’s gone entirely Arabic on Nicky in the past fifteen minutes, words slurred and interspersed with old Ligurian. Not quite as good as having him reduced to Nicky’s name, and he still has a little bit of patience left in him, so Nicky digs his fingers into the meat of Joe’s hips and pulls out again, goes slowly enough for Joe to be sobbing by the time just the tip of his dick is still inside. He pushes back in just as slowly except for the last inch or so. Joe yells when he rams in, hits that sweet spot hard, then sobs into the bedding. “Nico, please, Nicolò please hayati I can’t please please please…”

“Hush my love,” Nicky purrs, bending over Joe’s back to kiss his neck. “Just a little longer, you can do that for me, can’t you? You’ve been so good for me.”

Joe sobs but nods, trembling all over. Nicky trails a line of bites and kisses down his back as far as he can go, then straightens and rocks his hips just a little, a shallow little thrust that doesn’t do much more than grind his dick into Joe’s prostate. He does it twice more, then stills again.

Joe whimpers, Nicky’s name falling from his lips again in all the forms Joe uses it: “Nicolò, Nico, Nick, Nico, Nicky Nicky Nicky…”

It’s a litany of pleading, and that tightly wound string of patience inside Nicky snaps with a sharp _ping_. He bares his teeth and hauls Joe up with an arm around his chest, needs to see him as he finishes wrecking him.

He doesn’t start slow, doesn’t have the patience for it anymore. That well is dry as the desert, now, and Nicky rams into Joe with all the strength he can muster, all the force the position allows them. Joe takes it, moans for it, sobs Nicky’s name with every hard thrust. His eyes meet Nicky’s in the mirror, big and pleading and leaking fat tears again.

“Want to cum for me my beautiful Yusuf?” Nicky asks him, doesn’t recognize the growl of his own voice. Joe nods, frantically. “Then cum,” and it’s as if Joe was waiting for his permission, his order. Nicky can feel the sound he makes, something that sounds as if it was wrenched from him as his body shakes apart in Nicky’s hold, on his cock. He comes hard enough to paint streaks of seed over the arm Nicky’s still got wrapped around his chest, holding him up, but it’s the broken moan of “ _Nicolò_ ,” so full of love and satisfaction that pushes Nicky over the edge.

Cleaned up as best as they can manage with a wet washcloth, Joe rests in Nicky’s arms, snuggled up to him beneath the covers. His breath is warm against Nicky’s throat, his beard tickles his collarbones just a little. He’s heavy and sated, and Nicky is willing to call this heaven.

“Damn sniper patience,” Joe mutters against his skin, and Nicky laughs and presses a kiss into the wild curls.

“You love it.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments make an author's day <3

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Sniper's Patience](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26775994) by [mybeanieandme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mybeanieandme/pseuds/mybeanieandme)




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